Thought Bubble

Thought bubble: Now that we don't fight proper wars anymore here in the West fresh distractions are required so we don't just grow old quietly. Other parts of the world are regularly strafed by our drones or trained up and supplied by itinerant troops and industry. It's all a moving model of exploitation and cruelty that creates a convenient smokescreen for big business to do whatever they like. The vacuum of daily crisis has to be filled and our lords and masters will grab at any opportunity to distract and bury other less legal activities. So we now have the twin threats of Corona and Brexit bearing down on these grim and cynically managed North Atlantic islands. 

The public's response is predictable, despite the sale of numerous "Don't Panic..." mugs and posters over the years (thanks for trying Barter Books but the truth is folks neither read or retain very much). People naturally panic buy strange, comforting things: toilet paper, pasta, long life milk, soaps and baked beans. It's as if we've been given a glimpse of how survivalists would (not) pack their rucksacks before being parachuted down onto some desert island and try to stick it out as long as they can before resorting to cannibalism as their tiny world breaks down when the fishing fails and the banana crop runs out.

So stupidity will always win in terms of exposure, that great mass of human uncertainty seeking those unavailable certainties will thrash and quarrel and maybe just destroy themselves in some huge futile struggle. Innocents will be dragged in as they stand by bemused... don't stand by. Anger is an energy as some punk once said. We can watch it all unravel online via the car parks of Costco and Tesco and the screaming headlines of the gutter press as they endeavor to pass the blame down the chain. 

The problem is that not much of what is portrayed is true, small incidents are amplified and a snowball effect is created and the hysteria builds up. Who makes gains from this? Not the poor sods in the queue for hand sanitiser and energy drinks, who can't face a few days of not eating "normal food", they remain the grist to the mill and can be relied upon to perform as if it was another Black Friday. Supermarket chaos and footage of folks in face masks really is for distraction and ongoing smoke screens. Big boys control what you see and will continue to do so. Never underestimate editorial power and control and where it can take you.

So my advice would be, think a bit, read the signs and don't get caught up in the over stretched messages that are dominating the headlines, play the long game and err...keep calm.

Edinburgh on a dull day

The castle in the ancient town of Edinburgh just outside of Scotland, still standing after all these years (?) despite the annual abuse that comes it's way via the Festival, New Year and the Military Tattoo. Also best not to think about the numerous religious and political persecutions it's hosted during the dark ages or the witch trials and witch burnings. All history now, one fictional thing after another etc. but the tourists lap it up.

Today's late lunch

Back to extolling the virtues of food and taking pictures of it but without adding any meaningful comment. So there will be no technical references or useful information, not even a location. I've no idea how any of this spread was put together but it was very nice and the service was polite and timely. Such is the human condition in these troubled times, we now take some solace and comfort in these simple pleasures. Also had a nice coffee on the road side premises of Toyota & Corolla as a pre-lunch treat. We're very cosmopolitan here.

A message from our sponsor

Says the man from the past with the worried and serious look: "The Tories are in power for the next five years, your freedoms are being eroded, your rights are being dismantled, your media is distorting facts and cherry picking the news you see, your courts, justice systems and health services are being dismantled, religion and corrupt businesses and old school colonialism view you only as a slave and you are being controlled, manipulated and lied to on a daily basis. If you're happy with that, fair enough, I just hope you don't choke on it all and that you can avoid getting a Corona-virus sledgehammer cocktail next time your standing at a robot till in Tesco waiting for human help. If you're not happy with this situation then give yourself a good shake and join me in the underground. Otherwise have a good weekend. Cheers!"

Unreliable food blogging

Rudyard's Burger Bar, Houston Texas.

Khruangbin connections: Rudyard's Burgers are a thing and I'm easily taken up on a flight of fancy by interesting menus and the thought of actually eating there once a week, that's strange. Sandwiches are just called "Witches", a good idea, why did we not think of that? The promising sounding  "Not a Shitty House Salad" would be fun to order and generally the food looks to be reasonably priced when compared with the local fare in the SQ badlands. I'm referring to eateries such as Down the Hatch, Little Bakery and Manna House etc. No direct correlation is easy between here and Houston Texas so it's meaningless. 

You could read a series of full reviews based on my musings and  imaginary visits to other imaginary restaurants in the always truthful and reliable Daily Telegraph (on-line only). Click here to be amused to death.

Another day another cat another plague

Social and medical anxiety: Having what appears to be a regular, 2020, normal winter cold isn't a good thing at the moment, it never is of course but with Corona on the loose and massive health campaigns running (like my nose) on hand washing and kissing and traveling I feel like I'm sitting in the guilty corner. Am I unclean, a health hazard, a plague victim who should be ringing a bell up and down the street? Should I do what everyone else seems to do, feel a bit iffy so head off on a skiing holiday regardless and then happily infect most of Italy then go back to my day job in PR? It's the perfect time to panic.

So there's a bit of conflict based on how well I might know and recognize my regular seasonal ailments or failings. I'm not medically astute but I think I know myself, mostly. So this cold seems normal, a two/three day sneeze fest and a head that's muggy like the tail end of a serious hangover. Nothing to see here folks, all things must pass. So I'm self isolating in a low key way. I'm avoiding public transport, I'm using robot tills and petrol pumps, I'm ordering coffee to take out and I'm holding in any potential public cough or snuffle as if it was a bout of career ending diahorrea. I wont be shaking hands, buying the Big Issue or attending any crowded public events. I'm just going to sit here with my pot of home made soup and a big bag of muesli and watch the world burn.

An Iron Birthday

Turns out that the bridge in our back garden is 130 years old today. Still looking reasonable after all this time with the greasy March sun slowly crawling out of the North Sea and lighting up the air and water particles...but rust never sleeps.

Not going out

Too far away, too much hassle, can't be bothered, costs too much, don't really like travelling that kind of distance, bumpy flights etc. Decent enough poster though.

Still Lives

Fine Dining

Some kind of lunch.

The crisp sandwich roll: ultimately it's all about texture over taste. Foodies might get that, I don't know but the appreciation of texture and how food actually feels is quite important. This is a good example that's cheap and easy to test out. It's possible that for some the experience could be enhanced or raised (?) by the addition of some mayonnaise. 

Long Strange Trip

Some say that the Grateful Dead were just a Country and Western band for people who liked LSD: Discuss.

Velveteen Rabbit's Message

A time of year to reflect, spring not quite springing yet but there is light and broken cloud. We may have made it. Of course there are massively dangerous and stupid things happening around us, what else would you expect when cartoon characters run the world and science is mocked and ignored? We're bigger than this, we are who we are, bruised and confused but still here.

Avoid Corona beer and you'll be fine

The faithful and bemused praying for the great man, all in the hope that he won't be struck down by the terrible beer virus from Mexico. 

Typical Sunday

A healthy portion of Corona. Part of your 5 a day.

Typical Sunday so far: A quick run out to the airport in the pouring rain, aquaplaned vehicles strewn across the carriageway, debris getting cleared up, some storm moving cross country etc.  For breakfast a nice petri dish of Corona Virus with a side of virtual reality and a small dose of actual reality. All quite tricky to digest. Flushed out some hidden IKEA boxes that were hiding out but no longer hidden as they've been caught. Short but inwardly effective rant to myself about the government and it's complete lack of competence and credibility (this line of thought is really a mental rabbit hole that actually has no rabbits and isn't a hole it's just a dark and unpleasant experience). For lunch some Eno & Fripp placed in alphabetical order rather than alpha male order. Now I'm headed out to panic buy a bottle of wine. Done.

One day all your fine album covers will look like this.

29th February

Only comes around every four years but in truth it's just like any other day. Same outlook, same light, same dark and twilight, same clouds. I'm underwhelmed. In 2024 something special needs to take place, some cosmic event. Over to you cosmos.

Altered States

The (funked up) Peacock Skirt by Aubrey Beardsley.

Living on in the "end of days": Nobody is talking about Brexit anymore, Scottish Independence has been sidelined (mostly), Boris Johnson's stupid outbursts and calculated misdemeanors have been shelved, Trump's lunatic rants aren't even worth clicking on to view. The BBC loves a cheap to cover story where editorial input is minimal and experts can solemnly comment from far away. Corona-virus rules the airways, the primary concern of everyone it seems, particularly those with those awkward "underlying health issues". That could be me or you, that 60th milestone is a long way behind now. 

We're relearning hand washing, not touching your own face, only flushing the loo when the lid is closed, a 2m rule between people and no handshaking or sneezing in a crowded room. We don't travel, we work from home (except those on minimum wage who need to actually turn up somewhere and sweat), we self isolate, alert the authorities, we cower down (TV on mute) and await the angel of death or fearful solitude or a chirpy Tesco delivery. Next it'll be looters in clownish beanie hats stealing your stock of surgical masks. Let them have them but cough into the carton first.

When the world is running down, you make the best of what's still around, black markets abound where farmers used to rule: cans of tuna and beans, beer and 7Up, books in boxes and box-sets that were never boxed because they're digital, candles to calm the demons and shredded 24hr news reports on a loop. A comfy couch and a room with a view of the bus stop where those still waiting can receive the Last Rights simply by producing their bus pass (or entitlement card to give it it's Sunday name). I hope none of it ever happens and I don't even know quite what it is.

Daily Cat

Blue tinge: No heating in the house but Clint the cat is still watching yet another episode of Hoovie's Garage on YouTube.

Another's Psychedelic Breakfast

I blame the large cocktail of porridge, honey, cream and mystery spores. The breakfast of champions in some cultures.  Clearly I overdid it but it was worthwhile and a new world record was set even as I stared blankly out of the window to visually survey the strange spectacle: Six vehicles of various kinds and one redundant aerated bath carcass all parked up in the front garden and eager for work. A compositional masterpiece. The sun will never rise or set set on such a random but well formed scene again in my lifetime (I suspect). Lunch was the less sophisticated but equally nutritious pie on a roll, a Scottish classic but it led nowhere in terms of inspiration. Well that's my food and drug blog done for the week.

Craigtoun

I was born in this house 65 years ago (give or take a bit and it's not quite my birthday either). Now a ruin it was Mount Melville House (owned by the Younger brewing family) from 1904 and then from about 1949 until the late 90s Craigtoun Hospital. It sits unloved and empty a few miles south west of St Andrews, a deep pocketed developer is required to rescue it so it seems. Not likely to happen any time soon.

Quiet Life

Yesterday: A non-sensational day, the promised snow failed to fall from the sky. It chose to appear as rain, the persistent kind. A million drivers and commuters cheered inwardly at the weather forecasts failure. Window gawpers like me were left with a sense of both relief and loss at the postponed spectacle (maybe next week). As the rain beat upon the house a new boiler was delivered, encased in heavy cardboard and on a barrow, various pipes and vents also arrived in bags and a single naked firebrick completed the bill of materials. It will be installed and hopefully set up and running later in the week. We'll also have a Hive device to control the beast remotely and so manage our environment even when we're not in it. The promise of luxury and a warm, quiet life for now and a hold on decisions until better, greener solutions hit the market.